I don’t regret much what I am.
How can I regret what defines me?
The way I am is an answer to how I feel.
I am my own universe, omnipresent
and yet a mere glimpse of insignificance
in others awareness or lives.
A blip in the whole of eternity.

You may think me ignorant
even cold, that’s not the truth.
Just a reflection of me mirrored
through the stained windows of you.
You can fall in love with the image
I transcend, the spark I ignite,
the pull of my voice
or softness in my touch,
but it is just as short lived
as fireworks, a spark of light
on the endless night sky.

I am not telling you
that things don’t matter
in a life so short lived
as a human life cycle.
I do not mean,
that you should stop loving
or that you can avoid hating
even that you may stop trying
to save the world.

In fact I am saying the opposite.
Make every moment count,
live them to the fullest,
make them yours.
Savor the actions,
the laughter, the passion
even the grief, heartache or anger.
You are a drop in the ocean of time
one of many particles and yet,
the one and only.

Life is short.
Eternity is not.

I haven't really eaten in days,
but I've tasted manna from heaven.
Dancing under overcast stars,
drinking the essence of oblivion.
I haven't really tried to be sensible,
or act the reasonable way of society.
But people don't seem to care anyway.
They hunger for a smile, a touch that transfer only...
Simplicity
Unregarded affection
Payless affinity.
And so,
I live
Still roaming the treasures of life,
spending the few grains of hope
left inside me.
To find residues of love
that I might steal
From you
and you...

Hapless people
you are but one brief moment away
from swallowing the answer
of love.

Poem may: not be finished/change *

Like a teenage boy.
Practically A prepubescent adolescent
out to late, with limited restraint
trying to cop a feel,
attempting to achieve an unreal ideal.

Im not sure if ill ever succeed and complete my masterpiece
before it is lost to the terra-cotta floor
like my mind is lost to amphetamine with the last of my *** appeal,
seldom seen.
Just a mandala memento of strange LSD daydream
From back in Hawaii when I was at eighteen.

In actuality
I am a mer twenty and stressed by the precent
attempting to be more than an empty brunette beauty
Bewildered by his words and left splintered.
In a dark world, void of a vice in paradise.
Wanderer, wanderer, you’re lost evermore.
Far to awkward to adore.

I'm all around 5'7 and 98 to 105 lb on a good day.
Sounds great if you wanna be castaway
By people that don't understand first hand
And demanded you to eat to gain some meat.

Though the ladies, who aren't jealous of my boney pelvis,
Say I'm paragon in every which way, a totally dime.
But to the fellas I'm hella undeveloped.
A kyphotic crescent moon that keeps getting slimmer.
But the truth is they wouldn't have fulfilled her either.


Because I am the luciferous prosperity of celtic kings.
An authentic relict of a noble bloodline
Twinkling, as lore to an all distant past.
a la belle étoile
'Under the beautiful star'; in the open air at night.
An eclectic aesthetic
Living in perpetual summer sublime,
Who could have dreamt, there was such a thing.

I'm not lazy, I'm depressed.
My hands are swollen,
my mouth is empty,
I am a void with shredded skin.

Don't tell me to pray,
I'm drowning, I need air, not words.
Not these words.

at first we played games
like 'see who can love the other more'
now it's **** on me, i'll **** on you
and if i don't have anything worthwhile i'll drink until i can muster up just about anything devilish

never thought much to bite my tongue
but i'm somewhat starting to wish i had it removed with my tonsils last year
right before i met you
maybe it would have made more sense if i hadn't the ability to talk myself up
and make it seem like i'm a person who cares about anything

you see i've learned lately that i'm no good, when it really comes down to it
i can go through the motions and get by, but when it comes down to the most crucial moments, like when one must hold their tongue... i spit

My momma always warned me
She’d say
“Baby doll liquor runs through our veins”
I was making a family tree for health class last week and a third of the people hanging from the branches had beer bottles clinking next to them.
My grandfather’s favorite hobby was downing a bottle of jack and carrying out the cliché tradition of beating his wife and kids
Just like his father did.
My dad learned from this vowing never to forget what alcohol did too his family
My uncle he drinks just trying to forget.
My mother has a similar background
She remembers riding into town with my grandma to buy her granddaddy’s medicine
It was only until she was older she realized the pharmacy was an ABC
The “medicine” cheap whiskey
As the elixir slid down my great grandfathers throat it trickled into the workings of our tree
Infecting its core
Yeah my parents would always warn me
Against the dangers of alcohol
Don’t drink the punch at parties
Don’t be like your uncles
Don’t end up like your aunts
But what they failed to tell me was depression runs through our veins too
They taught me how to ward off being a drunkard
But never told me to stay away from the dark spaces in my mind
They never taught me what to do about the numbness
And in my house people are more ashamed
Of going to therapy than alcoholics anonymous.
How do you protect yourself from something already inside you?
You see those relatives of mine
They were doctors
Preforming at home blood transfusions
Replacing the bad blood with good beer
The dark thoughts with white wine
Until the depression swimming through them was too drunk to see straight
We nurture our family tree with PBR and Prozac
Helping the roots twist and grow so they can grasp for the younger generation dangling from the lower limbs and I mean
Hey we all need something to make the feelings go away
And they say alcohol’s not the answer
But it sure as hell makes you forget the question
We all need something to forget the questions
And Like my kin I picked my poison
Because I felt it
The liquor in my veins I felt it
getting warmer
Hotter
Hot
This liquid in my veins it gets too hot.
I’m slitting my wrist to poor myself another shot
It’s not what it looks like momma
I just wanna feel that buzz and my blood is all I got
I picked my poison
I’m like my uncles
A crude copy of my aunts
I’m an addict
Just not an alcoholic